


Fog-Coloured Glasses

by xylodemon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Circle Jerk, M/M, MWPP Era, Masturbation, Plot What Plot, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-30
Updated: 2004-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylodemon/pseuds/xylodemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which two awkward teenage boys absolutely fail at communicating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fog-Coloured Glasses

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://seventybyheart.livejournal.com/profile)[**seventybyheart**](http://seventybyheart.livejournal.com/).

The first time Sirius says they should all have a wank together, Remus thinks there is something wrong with his hearing.

James and Peter seem to be thinking the same thing, because they both stare at Sirius as blankly as Remus does. Sirius, unconcerned, just repeats himself, speaking slowly, as if they are simple, in a tone that suggests he is reporting the weather.

When the words sink in, Remus thinks Sirius has finally run mad, like he has been threatening to do for years.

But, James must be mad as well, because he agrees with a hurried nod, a blush creeping across his face. Once James is in, Peter is as well, because Peter has never had a thought that James did not have first.

Remus is the one that considers, thinking of the possible consequences, because that is what Remus does. Sirius coaxes and soothes, telling him it's only a bit of fun, it would just be boys being boys, together.

Eventually, he gives in, though reluctantly. He is still convinced this is a horrendously stupid idea, but he does not want to be left out, and he has never really been able to tell Sirius no.

Once Remus agrees, Sirius wastes no time, spelling his trousers away with a few muttered words, flopping on his bed and taking himself in hand without further ceremony. Of course, this is unsurprising, Sirius has nothing to be ashamed of, he is the kind of bloke who thinks public nudity is a God-given right.

James and Peter both have their trousers bunched up around their knees, but Remus is not as brave as that, and he is certainly not as daring as Sirius. He is self-conscious about his body, painfully aware of his overly thin frame and the pearly scars crisscrossing his back and chest and thighs.

He settles for slipping a hand inside his open flies, but secrecy does not change what he is doing, does not change the fact he is touching himself in front of the others. He feels awkward and exposed, and stares as his own cock in disbelief, even as his fingers trail over its hard length.

He can't believe he is doing this, can't believe he's letting himself get swept away in another one of Sirius' mad fancies. He knows he should stop, but he can't quite find the words to say so, can't quite make his hand stop its slow, stroking motions.

But, he finds he doesn't want to stop, discovers that underneath the sting of embarrassment is a hot flush of excitement that burns its way across his skin. He forces himself not to examine this thought too closely, he does not want to think on what that might say about him as a person.

More disquieting is the sudden desire to look at the others instead of his own cock, curiosity mingling with wonder in the center of his belly. He knows he shouldn't watch, but he does, furtive glances hidden by lowered lashes and a fringe of sandy hair.

Peter is pink and nervous; his hitched, ragged breaths matching the rapid rhythm of his hand. Sirius is relaxed, his eyes half-closed, fisting himself languidly as he lounges against the bedpost.

James' hand moves slowly, but steadily, motions somewhere between Peter's desperation and Sirius' indolence, and his head is bowed, his face hidden under a mop of unruly hair.

Remus' eyes linger on James a bit too long, and James looks up, catching him. Spots of color bloom on James' cheeks, but he does not look away. He looks right at Remus, right through him, hazel eyes drifting down to glimpse at his cock before coming back to lock with Remus' own.

That is what makes Remus come, not Sirius' disheveled beauty or Peter's needy grunts, but James' eyes, wide and dark with arousal behind the shadow of his glasses.

 

\--

 

The second time they have a wank together, the sound of James' sharp gasp and the sight of him spurting over his own hand is what brings Remus over the edge. The third time, it is because James is watching him from behind tufts of black hair, hazel eyes darting between Remus' face and cock, pink tongue peeking out of a slightly opened mouth.

The fourth time, Remus doesn't come.

They are all grouped together, four boys with their cocks in their hands, sitting in a row on the edge of Peter's bed. Peter gives a jerk, his elbow catching Sirius in the side. Sirius yelps, and jumps; knocking Remus into James. Remus reaches out to keep himself from toppling on the floor, his hand sliding over James' thigh, accidentally brushing against his cock.

James comes with a broken, garbled cry, shuddering as his release catches Remus' fingers before hitting the floor.

He leaps up, jumping off the bed and away from Remus as if he's been burned. The other two don't notice; Sirius is too busy smacking Peter in the head for ruining a perfectly good wank with his clumsiness, but James looks horrified, hazel eyes harsh and accusatory behind his glasses.

He storms out of the room, yanking up his trousers and bundling his cock away as he stalks towards the bathroom. Remus watches him go, apologies and explanations dying on his lips. It wasn't his fault, he hadn't meant to touch James. Sirius jostled him, Sirius pushed him over, and his hand only  
shot out in an attempt to keep himself from falling.

But, James is gone, closeted in the bathroom, and Remus isn't going to bother explaining to an ancient, oak door. He excuses himself to the still arguing Sirius and Peter, and hides himself in his bed, hoping he will wake up to find this was all a bad dream.

He falls asleep damning Sirius' ridiculous ideas to the depths of Hell, and wakes up with James' face hovering over his.

James' face is anxious, his eyes wide and owlish. Remus can seem them clearly, even though they are shrouded by the shadow of the bed-hangings and thick, round lenses, the hazel eyes that have haunted Remus since the first time Sirius convinced them all to have one off together.

Remus sees a spark there, a flash; the meaning is plain, and Remus thinks he has lost his mind.

James' fuss about Evans seems so desperate and earnest, it has never occurred to him that James could have a penchant for blokes underneath. He wonders of James is just bored, or lonely, but Sirius would be the better choice if that was the case. The rumors that Sirius will shag anything that moves are mostly true, and Sirius, in Remus' opinion, is far more attractive that he is.

But, James is in his bed, not Sirius', hazel eyes boring a hole in him as he crawls under the duvet.

Then, Remus panics, unsure of what to say or do. His previous snogging attempts have only been with girls, and they have also been awkward, brief, and abortive.

James seems nervous as well, but James Potter has never lacked bollocks or daring, and before Remus can speak or move or think, James is leaning over, pressing his lips to Remus' own.

His lips are dry and a little chapped, and not as soft as Amelia Bones' or Emmeline Vance's, but they are hot and sweet, and they are James', and Remus is hard immediately.

Remus knows he should protest, should shove James away before their friendship is irreparably ruined, but he can't do it, a wild, dangerous part of him unwilling to stop something that feels so brilliant.

James has done a bit more snogging that Remus, but both are unused to doing it with boys. It is fumbling, and a bit awkward at first, mouths tentative, hands shy and unsure.

Remus opens his mouth to the insistent press of James' warm, wet tongue, relishing the feeling of it sliding against his own. Kissing James is very different than kissing girls, but it is no less wonderful. It is even more so, a hot, liquid tangle of lips and tongue.

Then, James is moving, shifting against him, and Remus thinks he might die from it. James' cock rubs against his through the soft fabric of his nightclothes, startling heat rolling over his body in waves.

Remus hears James mutter a spell, the spell Sirius is famous for, and their nightclothes are gone. The next thrust a rough, delicious slide of skin against skin, hot and dangerous and addictive.

Remus rips James glasses away, wanting to see his eyes without the barrier of lenses and frames. They are bright, even in the darkness, warm brown flecked with soft green, wide and full of wonder.

James' hand wraps around his cock, stroking him slowly, strong fingers smoothing over heated, aching flesh. James kisses him, swallowing his moan, grinding helplessly against Remus' hip in time with the pull of his fingers.

The feeling of someone else touching his cock, James touching his cock, is too much, and the heat coiled tightly in his belly starts spiraling out of control. James' thumb swipes over the sensitive head and he is lost, drowning in a sea of lips and hands and cocks and haunting hazel eyes.

He tries to work a hand between them as he catches his breath, but James is already coming, shuddering as he gasps into Remus' neck and spurts onto Remus' thigh.

 

\--

 

Hogsmeade is warm this close to June, but Remus is wearing a heavy cloak. He is always cold this soon after the full moon, a chill settling in his bones as the feral heat of wolf leaves him. He knows he will not truly be warm for a few more days, no matter what he does, but he pulls the cloak tightly around him, anyway.

He nods and smiles at Sirius, his mind only half on his friend's prattle about his latest Zonko's purchase. Sirius is an amazing creature sometimes, his complete lack of priorities is often astounding. He is flippant and uncaring as he talks about important things, like lessons or his family, yet he can pontificate on pure nonsense with a measure of seriousness that is a spot on impersonation of McGonagall.

Suddenly, Sirius falls silent, leaving his diatribe unfinished as he stares over Remus' shoulder, his wide eyes and a baffled expression on his face. Remus turns to see what Sirius finds so off-putting, and when he does, he is shocked as well.

In the doorway of the Three Broomsticks, James is talking to Evans. The conversation seems civil; it lacks James' usual arrogant posturing, and Evans' complete impatience with it. She smiles at him as she takes her leave, her hand darting out quickly to squeeze his before she turns.

Sirius whistles through his teeth as Evans walks away, shaking is head in disbelief. Remus makes a casual, off-hand remark about Lily having finally run mad, but he can hear the strain in his own voice, his stomach feels like it has disappeared, and he shivers with a new kind of chill.

He is not sure how he feels about James, or how James feels about him. They have what they have, nothing more, nothing less. It has never been questioned, or discussed, and Remus is willing to wager that James has never told anyone, not even Sirius.

Remus is silent as he follows Sirius back to Hogwarts, and tries desperately not to think of how Evans' face lights up when she smiles, or the way she tosses her shiny, red hair when she laughs.

James comes to him that night, just as Remus is drifting off, long after Peter and Sirius have gone to sleep.

Remus does not know how it went from once to twice, or from twice to almost every night of their sixth year, but it did, time and consciousness lost in wave of sensation and release.

He looks in James' eyes, hazel fogged slightly by the glasses, and sees a mixture of emotions, excitement for what is to come, and sadness for what he is about to leave behind.

Remus doesn't ask, because he knows. Evans has finally come around, and if James crawls under his duvet tonight, it will be for the last time.

James' lips are gentle and soft and a little bit unsure, reminiscent of their very first kiss. His hands shake as he touches Remus, fingers fleeting and wary, his body tense and anxious.

Remus growls impatiently, rolling until James is under him. If this is to be the last time, he doesn't want tenderness. He wants it fast and rough and _now_ , he wants to fuck James so hard they both pass out when they come, so James doesn't have to speak the words he is afraid to say, the words Remus doesn't want to hear.

James' mind might be elsewhere, but his body is willing, hardening at Remus' touch, pushing against his hands, warming around his fingers. He whines low in his throat when Remus enters him, hips arching off the bed, rocking upward to take Remus in deeper.

Behind his glasses, James' eyes are closed.

Remus pulls the glasses off, as he has done a hundred times, but instead of tossing them aside, he slides them onto his own face.

The lenses are strong; heavy glass that combats James' myopic eyes, and Remus is startled at the abrupt lack of clarity and definition. Everything is fuzzy and vague, shapeless and nondescript. Even James, who is very close, seems soft and not-quite-there, a slightly lighter black form inside the darkness of the bed-hangings.

Remus thrusts into James hard, and James moans, bucking off the bed. Remus cannot really see James, but he can feel him, every inch of James' heat around his cock.

He finds it perversely exhilarating to fuck something he can't see; through the glasses James is not really James, he is just an impossibly tight heat with no name or shape or form, a heat Remus can fuck blindly while he tries to forget.

James moans Remus' name when he comes, the word choked out around heavy, ragged breaths. Remus is silent, his climax takes him in violent, shuddering waves, but he does not gasp or cry out. He just slams into James and waits, pausing as his release leaves him and fills James in a hot rush.

He does not pass out as he had hoped, but he buries his face in the pillow anyway, and after several long moments, James slips into his own bed without a word.

 

\--

 

The wedding is beautiful, a flower and silk bedecked affair in the Potter's back garden. Lily is beautiful, her white robes delicate and flowing. James looks like the fine, upstanding young gentlemen he is not, his dark robes crisp and pristine, his usually unruly hair pasted to his head.

Sirius is as gorgeous as ever; the somber robes he stole from God-knows-where fit him well, but they do not suit him. They are too restrictive and stuffy for his reckless, manic personality, and he looks ridiculous.

Remus smiles through the ceremony, occasionally comforting Peter, who seems completely bereft. If Remus wanted to think on it, he would understand why, because it is obvious Peter has loved James all this time. The evidence had always been there, the other three have just chosen to ignore it, each for their own reasons.

The banquet afterward is splendid, and Remus hears Lily's Muggle relatives remarking on how the Potter's must have spared no expense. Remus smiles at that, because it is horribly untrue. The Potter's certainly have the money, but none was necessary. The Hogwarts house-elves insisted on providing the feast, a gift for the most beautiful Head Girl in years, and the only Head Boy in recent memory to visit them at all hours of the night.

Several toasts later, Sirius is slouched next to him, his head heavy on Remus' shoulder, the smell of Firewhisky coming off him in waves. Sirius is warm and comfortable next to him, familiar, and Sirius' hand on his thigh is not at threatening as it should be.

Sirius disjointed rambling moves from how much he ate and how drunk he is to pointed hints that it is past time they returned to their flat. Remus tries to be shocked, he knows he probably should be, but he is not.

This, like many things, is something he should have seen coming.

He thinks before answering, absently pondering on how James and Sirius are exactly alike, while completely different at the same time.

Remus is scarcely through the Floo before Sirius is kissing him, searing, hot lips and tongue that direct his blood to his cock in a way James never did.

He pulls away from Sirius briefly, and asks him if he has ever worn glasses.


End file.
